


La Bête

by Kittenfightclub



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mornings, Mostly Fluff, kind of jokey, very short fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenfightclub/pseuds/Kittenfightclub
Summary: “You know I would never be a beast to you,” he dared between kisses, “never again,”





	

Valjean is the one to gently brush Javert’s hair from his eyes every morning, and it is the light that streams between these strands that wakes the inspector.   
Javert receives a smile from his love, the  _ first _ gift of the day, for there will surely be at least twenty more by sundown. Valjean’s eyes are half lidded from sleep then are closed by the time he gently presses a kiss to Javert’s forehead, his cheeks, and then his lips.   
  
When Valjean opens his eyes again he comes face to face with Javert’s unruly mane, the man appears somewhat similar to a lion in the darkness, when his hair has not been tamed with water and comb. In the light of the morning though he is more similar in likeness to a playful cub, a mockery of a true beast. His face is smooth as though in death, for he is free of the frown worn perpetually in life.   
  
When Javert opens his eyes, squinting, eyebrows low to ward off the sun. The power normally hidden in those eyes is still muffled by sleep and Valjean stifles a laugh.   
  
“You look like la bȇte du Gévaudan,” there is a grin and a lilt behind the words that Javert does not believe himself ever to be capable of matching.   
  
“Oh?” he murmurs and yawns, stretching sinewed and tan arms above his head as though about to embrace the heavens -or at least touch the headboard that is not quite towering over them-.   
Moments later there is a slight shrug and Javert’s face stretches into a terrible smile. Inspector Javert’s formidable smile, stark white and vicious against tanned skin, had struck fear into the citizens of Paris for many years now and while his eyes were still unfocused he looked as fearless as ever before.   
Valjean broke into a fit of giggles, kissing at Javert’s face until instead of harsh lips Valjean’s kiss collided with sharp teeth and he pulled back, still laughing.   
  
“You look much of a beast this morning,” Valjean confirmed, appraising Javert with soft eyes and even softer lips.   
Javert was still upon the bed, breath escaping his chest in rough pants, hair in his eyes, a strand perfectly against his lip that Valjean found particularly distracting, and a genuine smile pulling his expression from its depths. His face was becoming more tinged with pink as Valjean looked his fill.   
  
When after long minutes the gaze did not cease, Javert pounced upon Valjean with a feral growl, one arm against either side of the man’s shoulders, his body poised over the older man, and kissed him gently on the nose.   
Valjean laughed again but Javert kissed that away as well.   
  
“You know I would never be a beast to you,” he dared between kisses, “never again,” and Valjean replied with a smile of his own whilst swapping their positions easily so that Javert was beneath him.   
  
“Of course, my love,” there was a smile in Valjean’s voice that soothed Javert (who had maybe, for one moment been afraid of his own conjured monstrosity). “You are but a man,” Valjean leaned down and embraced his love, rolling onto his side and pressing firm and rough fingers into the base of Javert’s neck. The sighs that the man released were more than enough to prove that Valjean spoke the truth.


End file.
